There comes a moment when one faces the fresh features of an inner face; a time of conscious rebirth, when the accounting’s done, the weave in its final flourish, a time when a man stands before the world – vulnerable, nothing owed – and considers his place in it. I had reached such a moment.
Luis J. Rodriguez
‘Always Running’ is a book, better yet, a ‘piece’ that makes a person pause and search inside oneself. A book that points our gaze out through a window, towards the still morning sky, recollecting on and digesting sentences so artfully and delicately constructed. Words portraying lives many of us hope to avoid, carefully chosen words many writers hope to master.
A designer and writer are essentially one in the same. A designer creates pleasure visually whereas a writer uses words to create pleasurable imagery. Rodriguez is a writer whose paragraphs are devoid of either fat or wasted space, a writer whose experiences breathed life into every situation. At times I felt as if I were the protagonist, figuring out how to survive my adolescence.
I think I’ll write Mr. Rodriguez a letter. In it I will thank him for escaping death, for had it been inescapable, it’s a fair argument that countless souls would still be running.